In concert – Fazil Say, CBSO / Kazuki Yamada: Prokofiev, Saint-Saëns & Rachmaninoff

Fazil Say (piano), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Kazuki Yamada

Prokofiev Symphony no.1 in D major Op.25 ‘Classical’ (1916-17)
Saint-Saëns Piano Concerto no.2 in G minor Op.22 (1868)
Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances Op.45 (1940)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Wednesday 4 October 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse. Picture (c) Fethi Karaduman

French and Russian music has dominated the start of this season by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, this afternoon’s programme continuing the trend with early pieces by Prokofiev and Saint-Saëns heard alongside Rachmaninoff’s last and arguably greatest orchestral work.

Prokofiev consigned two earlier such pieces as juvenilia prior to his Classical Symphony, an infectious refit of Haydn in the early 20th century and calling-card for a career that beckoned in the West. If Kazuki Yamada slightly over-egged the humour in the opening Allegro, as too a rather self-conscious take on the Gavotte, the limpid phrasing of the intervening Larghetto was as disarming as was the interplay of wind and strings in the Finale – a reminder, here as throughout, that such musical directness should not be mistaken for mere technical facility.

This could be said of the Second Piano Concerto that Saint-Saëns unleashed on an evidently nonplussed Parisian audience half-a-century earlier. True, the conflation of Bach – given a makeover worthy of Alexander Siloti – with Liszt affords the opening movement an almost makeshift design, but Fazil Say took it firmly in hand from a surging ‘chorale-prelude’ to a tersely decisive coda. A pity his pianism was not applied a little more deftly in the ensuing intermezzo, its ingratiating poise smothered by an almost hectoring insistence, but the final Presto suited this most demonstrative of present-day virtuosi to a tee – its perpetuum mobile undertow maintained with unflagging resolve through to those almost brutal closing chords. Credit to Yamada for enhancing the total effect with his astute and precise accompaniment.

Say, as much composer as pianist, responded to the applause with his Black Earth – a study in sonority alluding to the golden-age of Turkish balladry as well as the Saz (a Turkish lute) in a mood of sombre fatalism which, unlike his orchestral epics, did not outstay its welcome.

The CBSO has given frequent performances over the decades of Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances, but none so incendiary. Not that there was anything overly powerhouse in Yamada’s conception of an initial piece whose outer sections felt trenchant in their energy, with the alto saxophone melody at its centre eloquently given by Kyle Horch and the coda rendered with melting grace. Nor was any lack of suavity in the central piece, its underlying waltz motion poised on a knife-edge of sardonic humour rightly given its head in the hectic closing pages.

Yamada had the measure, too, of the last piece with its dramatic introduction and impulsive continuation, but it was in the lengthy central episode this reading really came into its own – the composer creating music of an intoxicating expression via subtleties of harmonic nuance or textural shading rather than any defining melodic line. From here, impetus was seamlessly restored to a climactic emergence of the Dies irae plainchant then surged on to the explosive closing gesture that might have resounded longer had the audience not unreasonably erupted.

Yamada responded with Lezginka from Khachaturian’s ballet Gayane. An exhilarating close to an afternoon as began for early arrivals with what sounded like a medley from a mid-1970s children’s TV show on the first-floor performance space: it could only be here in Birmingham.

You can read all about the 2023/24 season and book tickets at the CBSO website. Click on the artist names for more information on pianist Fazil Say and conductor Kazuki Yamada

Switched On: Ellie Wilson: Memory Islands (Bigo & Twigetti)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The striking artwork on Ellie Wilson‘s new album is a key for what lies within. Memory Islands explores the power or spirit of remembrance, drawing on a number of first hand sources for inspiration.

The most pronounced of these is a recording of Wilson’s grandfather reminiscing about his experiences and lost years as a Navy seaman in World War II (By the Time I Got Back Pt 1). Other pieces explore the behaviour of the brain when waking from a coma (Delta), or the disappearance of words from our language, as noted by Robert Macfarlane (Unnamed Unseen). Looking forward – in a sense – is Will I Dream, inspired by the film The Year We Make Contact – specifically the moment the onboard computer HAL 900 confronts his digital ‘mortality’– all memories erased.

What’s the music like?

Extremely evocative. Wilson’s twin disciplines are the violin and electronics, the ideal blend of past, present and future to support the album’s themes – and both are used in support of memories lost and regained.

The open strings of the violin on Unnamed Unseen inevitably hark back to time spent learning the instrument but also express a powerful simplicity, her experience in folk music yielding strong communication from the off. The use of rapid pizzicato is especially effective when describing Delta‘s emergence from a coma, its pitter-patter countered by rustic double stopping.

The electronic Mindpop harnesses its power through a rolling drum track, while Will I Dream? has intriguing effects that play with aural perspective.

As you might expect, the tones of Wilson’s grandfather on By the Time I Got Back Pt 1 are particularly moving, complemented by urgent phrases from the violin. The second part spins a web of ideas against a tick-tock rhythm, an open-ended conclusion to the album.

Does it all work?

It does. The album is effectively a seven-part suite of studies on memory, and its half hour fairly flies by, leaving you wanting more.

Is it recommended?

Very much so. If you enjoy music where folk and electronic intersect, then this is definitely for you – and more besides, since Memory Islands tells a series of vivid tales. Given its value for money through Bandcamp, there really is no excuse!

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New music – Hatis Noit: Thor (Matthew Herbert Rework) (Erased Tapes)

How reassuring to know that the art of the remix is still in good hands!

Matthew Herbert has been a practiced exponent of the form for at least 25 years now, but this remake of Hatis Noit’s Thor shows that he continues to find new and imaginative ways of presenting other people’s music. The process had an effect on both artists. “When I first listened to the sonic world of Matthew’s Thor rework”, says Hatis, “I felt so nostalgic that I cried. The song evokes in me an interactive energy exchange between forest spirits and people singing and dancing around a fire. It is an even more colourful and playful representation of the landscape that I wanted to portray.”

Herbert, meanwhile, talked about his approach to the task in hand. “I liked the devotional aspect of the original so recorded a few round glass and steel bowls to create a kind of found-gamelan set of sounds. I wanted it to feel like you walked out of a festival and stumbled across some voices and people in the woodland nearby, like an auditory hallucination where more modern techniques merged with ancient-sounding voices.”

Have a listen below and see what you think:

Switched On: Captain Mustache: The Super Album (Kompakt)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

We last encountered Captain Mustache two years ago, as part of the excellent Quattro Artists collection released by Bedrock. His contribution was Indigo Memories, where the intersection between techno and electro functioned particularly well.

Now we find him returning to the Kompakt label with an imagined an imagined ‘whole day for party people’, with a raft of guests in tow.

What’s the music like?

The captain delivers a captivating blend of darkness and light in the course of the day. The darker stuff is the four to the floor electro and techno workouts, some really well produced numbers that hit the floor without any nonsense. These include the instrumental cuts Laser Me, Clair-Obscur and Galaxian Symbiosis, the last two of which would be more than half Detroit-based if you cut them open. Acapulco Citron has a chunky bass profile, as does Pulsions Organiques, which pans out a bit to softer electro up top.

Then we have the more humourous tracks such as the vocal playful Gimme Your Mustache or Shifting Basslines, where Chicks on Speed work particularly well. The Arnaud Rebotini collaboration I Love Watching U is excellent, too.

Does it all work?

It does – the album has a really satisfying ebb and flow.

Is it recommended?

Indeed it is, another fine opus from the man with immaculate facial hair.

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In concert – Boris Giltburg, CBSO / Michael Seal: Rachmaninoff Paganini Rhapsody & Shostakovich 8th Symphony

Boris Giltburg (piano, above), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Michael Seal (below)

Rachmaninoff Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini Op.43 (1934)
Shostakovich Symphony no.8 in C minor Op.65 (1943)

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Thursday 28 September 2023

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse. Pictures (c) Sasha-Gusov (Boris Giltburg), Eric Richmond (Michael Seal)

Now into his 12th season as its associate conductor, Michael Seal appeared this evening with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra in works written before the Second World War and during the middle of a conflict whose consequences seem very far from being played out.

Although present-day ubiquity had rather dulled its more innovative aspects, Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini remains a game-changer through the integration of piano with orchestra and conception of just what a piano concerto might be. Taking Paganini’s 24th Caprice for violin as the basis for a continuous sequence of 24 variations barely disguises the three-movement format of an archetypal concerto. Boris Giltburg responded with no lack of flair or panache, while recognizing the formal divisions of 15, three and six variations across which the theme is reconstituted in ever more ingenious and unexpected ways. The evergreen 18th variation saw a heartfelt response from CBSO strings, with the closing sequence finding this theme in pointed conflict with the ‘Dies irae’ chant right up to a perfectly judged pay-off.

An impressive performance and Giltburg (who in appearance and approach bears more than passing resemblance to a young Vladimir Ashkenazy) gave the second from Rachmaninoff’s second set of Études-Tableaux (aka The Sea and the Seagulls) as a limpidly affecting encore.

It may have had several fine performances from the CBSO over the decades (Rudolf Barshai, Maxim Shostakovich and Cristian Măcelaru immediately come to mind), but Shostakovich’s Eighth Symphony remains a testing assignment both for players and listeners – not least in an opening movement whose underlying Adagio tempo and almost unrelieved sombreness seem to override its constant evolving toward a violent then wrathful culmination. Seal (above) paced it all superbly and the CBSO responded with like dedication, but it was Rachel Pankhurst’s take on the plangent cor anglais soliloquy during the reprise that set the seal on a memorable account. Nor did Seal skimp on the satire of the Allegretto, a response to the inanity and idiocy of war where those climactic overlapping woodwind and brass entries emerged with fearsome acuity.

The inevitability with which the final three movements segued one into the other did not belie their disjunctive contrasts. With its overtones of mechanized warfare and martial rallying, the second scherzo powered to a climax as fairly exploded into the ensuing Largo – a passacaglia whose numbed unfolding on strings is offset by solos from horn and clarinet, deftly rendered by Elspeth Dutch and Oliver Janes. Out of such desolation the finale’s seeming promise of a return to innocence cannot be sustained beyond a return of the first movement’s culmination, and if the present account faltered momentarily on its way there, the closing pages – as earlier themes gradually subside into the most resigned of resolutions – were ideally judged. That one could have heard a pin drop in the final minutes says much for their effect on those listening.

An enthusiastic reception could not disguise the less than full house for a piece that is never easy or enjoyable listening, and it would be a tragedy were encroachment of ‘lifestyle’ issues to offset future hearings. This eloquent and insightful reading provided its own justification.

You can read all about the 2023/24 season and book tickets at the CBSO website. Click on the artist names for more information on pianist Boris Giltburg and conductor Michael Seal